


My Manic and I

by Newtons_Daughter



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5774020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtons_Daughter/pseuds/Newtons_Daughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you return to your hotel room after a long and difficult day to find an injured Norse god in your bathroom? </p><p>Emme's about to find out. </p><p>It started as a meandering one-shot, and is now two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Emme released a quiet sigh as she passed her hotel key card before the door and the responding buzz hit her ears. _What a day_.

She transferred her black leather portfolio to the crook of her left arm and pushed open the awkwardly weighted door with her right, trying to not lose her grip on her umbrella handle. It was a beautiful little hotel in a pared back art nouveau style so the rooms were odd shapes and compositions and the doors old and heavy.

The narrow little hallway lay before her but Emme had barely stepped inside the apartment, the door still between her shoulder and wall, when a flash of colour to her left drew her attention to the en suite.

Or rather, to the green-eyed man seated on the edge of her bath, blood dripping from his fingertips to the soft white tiles.

There was a flicker of dry humour in his eyes as he stared at her, but his unusually pale face never shifted. Emme couldn't help but stare; he was dressed in the strangest assortment of leather clothing and his black hair was nearly plastered to his head. Whoever he was, he hadn't been inside her apartment and out of the pouring rain for very long.

'Close the door,' he said, his voice deep and clear. 'I will not harm you.'

Emme felt her muscles tense beneath her jacket, partly because he was dripping blood onto her hotel floor and partly because he'd noticed her considering returning to the lobby and calling for help.

'Who are you?' she asked, not moving an inch. From where she stood, she could see her own reflection in the bathroom mirror to the left. Her own blue eyes glanced back at her, her dull shock exaggerated by her dark hair pulled back into a carefully sleek hairstyle. To her own mind, Emme looked like a corporate professional that had just been blindsided by being made redundant in the office hallway.

He inclined his head just slightly, perhaps in acknowledgement that she wasn't a complete idiot or perhaps agreeing with the absurdity of the situation. 'I'm in need of your assistance,' he said. 'If you will aid me, I will cause no harm to your person or to this rented room.'

Emme's eyes dipped briefly to the pooling blood and understood the second part of his offer. She looked up again, finding he continued to watch her. 'You should go to the hospital,' she said.

His lips curved, just a little. 'Look at the way in which I am dressed,' he suggested.

Emme did, her eyes skimming his black pants and jacket, trimmed in the strangest accents of green and gold. He looked like a comic book character; which wasn't that odd, unless worn by an adult male such as himself. Finished with heavy black boots and an outgrown haircut, he should have looked ridiculous. His dignity must have been saved only by his expressive green eyes and sharp cheekbones.

His lifted a single eyebrow. 'Do you think they would treat my wounds or attempt to peer inside my mind?' he asked.

Her lips pressed together for a moment before she relaxed, the quiet laugh bubbling to the surface anyway. 'It's either _you_ locked up for psychiatric evaluation, or _me_ for helping you,' she told him.

He didn't answer, other than the slight quirk of his lips.

Emme sighed, stepping around the door and letting it swing shut. 'Give me a minute,' she told him before heading down the narrow little hallway.

It opened into a larger sitting room, which was filled with the little sofa, coffee table, TV and tiny dining table which inhabited all hotel rooms. Curving to the left was a little annex which held the bed and Emme peered at it just briefly, relieved she hadn't left any underclothing strewn across the bed.

She dumped her portfolio and umbrella on the coffee table and kicked off her black pumps next to it. She slipped her black suit jacket from her shoulders and draped it over the table, briefly considering changing from her white linen button-up and black skirt.

In reality however, she was simply avoiding the problem waiting for her in her bathroom. She was tired and mentally depleted – a state which made her question for a moment whether her judgement might be a bit clouded.

Her exhausted mind helpfully pushed images of the day before her eyes and Emme let out a shuddering breath, pressing her fingertips over her eyelids. It seemed that a strange man bleeding in her bathroom was exactly what she needed this night. Smiling briefly, she turned on her stockinged feet and headed back down the hallway.

She found him right where she'd left him but the amused light was gone from his eyes, intrigue in its place. Emme paused in the doorway, taking the time to roll up her white sleeves. 'What happened?' she asked him.

'I have a small blade in my back,' he told her, his sharp green eyes watching her face pale. 'It is nothing I can't recover from, but I cannot remove it myself,' he explained.

Emme stared at him. 'Are you sure…'

'I will not go to your hospital,' he said firmly. 'I just need you to remove the blade and bandage my back.' He paused and for the first time Emme realised that it hurt for him to speak, no doubt the movement from his speech and breath pulling at his back. 'I will not harm you,' he said.

'That's the second time you've promised me that,' Emme mused. 'I'm starting to think it means something.'

The ghost of something flickered in his eyes but it was gone in the next breath.

Emme relaxed a slow breath. 'Whatever,' she said. 'I'll need to go and buy—'

'Use those,' he said, nodding tersely towards the sink.

She walked into the bathroom, peering into the sink to the left of the bath. Sure enough, she found what looked like a mini first aid kit – the type kept in cars – and an odd assortment of bandages besides. 'You came prepared,' she murmured. 'Were you expecting me?'

His look was incredulous until she laughed.

'Sorry,' she murmured, picking up the kit to unzip it. 'I'm tired and my mouth is running away from me.'

He didn't answer as she pulled out several things she could use. It was curious, she mused to herself, that he managed to find a hotel room whose occupant was alone and had basic first aid skills (even if they were rudimentary at best).

Emme turned to him and tried to figure out the best way to do this. Even seated she could tell that he was very tall and she didn’t want him to move very much if they could help it. She mentally shrugged and stepped around him into the bathtub.

Now that she was looking at his injury, Emme felt a little queasy. A small blade, he'd said. That was true enough, she supposed, but it didn't make the injury any less gruesome. 'Wow,' she murmured. 'You really upset someone today.'

'They got lucky,' he said evenly.

'So did you,' she murmured, her eyes drifting between the smooth metal she could see through the torn leather and the centre of his back where his spine lay. 'It looks more like a throwing knife to me,' she said, stepping out of the bath again.

He watched her as she came and stood before him.

''It will be easier if we can remove this,' she said, eyeing the complex leather jacket he wore.

Without hesitation he stood in a single fluid motion, startling Emme into taking a step back. He opened his mouth, hesitated and then seemed to change his mind on whatever he'd been about to say. 'The bracers need to be removed first,' he said.

She was no expect in medieval armour, but Emme followed the line of his gaze to his forearms and got the gist. 'Right,' she murmured. He remained perfectly still as she slowly and carefully removed the bracers, navigating the leather straps with the grace of a newborn.

Her earlier seed of a suspicion flourished; if a man with a face as proud as this preferred a complete stranger's help to bringing his forearms together to remove the bracers, then his back must have hurt more than he'd admitted thus far.

It was less uncomfortable than she might have expected, to be talked through undressing a complete stranger in medieval armour. His instructions were calm and detailed, leaving Emme to marvel over the detailed workmanship and surprising weight of the leather and metal clothing.

Finally, the bathroom's towel rack was covered in a leather, metal and a soft bottle-green tunic (was she ever so surprised she remembered that word from school history class) and he stood before her still as a statue.

For the briefest of moments, Emme hesitated. If he'd seemed disconcerting seated on the edge of her bath fully clothed, it was nothing to how he appeared standing, naked from the waist up. She'd have to be blind to miss the hard muscles of his stomach and chest, or the latent speed and power in his arms and shoulders.

He could be dangerous with very little difficulty and when his vibrant green eyes rose to meet Emme's wide blue ones, she fought back a shudder.

She turned from him, picking up a pair of latex gloves from the sink. 'You can sit again,' she offered, eyes down as she pulled on the gloves. From the corner of her eye she could see that he complied and Emme took just a few moments to transfer wipes, antiseptic and steri-strips to the edge of the sink counter. She added a waterproof dressing and decided that would have to do.

Emme met his calm gaze. 'This will hurt,' she said.

He lifted an eyebrow at her again. 'More than having a blade in my back?' he queried softly.

She laughed. 'I can't say for sure,' she said, climbing back into the bath. Looking at it, Emme shuddered anew. It would be difficult to get a clean grip on the metal and given her lack of experience in these matters, she had no idea how far it went in.

'Just pull it out,' he said evenly. 'There's no easy way to do it.'

Emme made a quiet sound, halfway between amusement and panic. 'Sure, okay,' she murmured.

Still, she pushed a sharp exhale from her lungs and slipped her left fingertips as deeply around the metal as she could reach. She saw the flinch of muscles either side, but he stayed still. Carefully, she slipped the metal free, doing her level best to ignore the clenching of her stomach.

'Wow,' she breathed, reaching over to drop the small throwing knife into the sink with a clatter. 'That was— _hey_.'

Emme reached out, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he pitched forward. He was heavy and unresponsive – Emme managed to slow his fall but her stockinged feet slipped against the porcelain. He crumbled to the tiles and Emme's knees hit the side of the bath so hard it shocked the breath from her lungs.

 _'For-the-love-of-fucking-Jesus-that-hurt_ ,' she gasped, holding tightly to the bath's edge.

When she could move enough to draw air into her lungs, Emme sat back on her heels. The room seemed to have taken on an almost golden haze – it was faint, but enough that it made Emme wonder if she'd hit her head.

_Speaking of…_

She released a shaky breath and stood, carefully stepping out of the bath. Her knees ached and her stomach roiled. What on earth had she agreed to? Her green-eyed companion had yet to move and she prayed he hadn't met the tiles too hard. What would she do if she had?

 _"I found a complete stranger in my bathroom, tried to pull a literal knife from his back; he fainted and I've now let him hit his head beyond repair"?_ There was no way she wasn't going to be at least tried for murder, even if they couldn't prove it.

Emme crouched next to him, unsure. Now that she was closer, she could see the gentle rise and fall of his torso so she released any worries about his breathing. She let out a quiet sigh. 'This is not what I wanted to be doing tonight,' she murmured. Regardless, she stripped the gloves from her hands and tossed them up and into the sink.

She took a steadying breath and placed a hand on his arm – or at least she would have, if his eyes hadn't suddenly snapped open and his hand clamped around her wrist.

The world lurched and Emme found herself lying on her back on the cold hard tiles, her furious green-eyed stranger above her with his hand around her throat.

She panicked, her blood going cold and she fought to dislodge his chokehold. For a brief moment she thought she'd succeeded until his hands caught her shoulders, stilling her attempts.

'Stop moving,' he grit out. 'I won't harm you.'

Emme let out a wavering near-hysterical laugh. 'Says the dude who had his hand around my throat,' she rasped.

He sighed and let go, watching her with apathetic eyes as she scrambled away until her back met the door and she'd drawn her knees up to her chest.

Emme stayed where she was, aware that she'd had too many horrible experiences for one day, if the ringing in her ears was any indication. Logically, she knew she should get up and alert reception to the psychopath's presence but she wasn't entirely sure her legs would carry her that far.

Instead, she chose to glare at him. 'Why is the room gold?' she demanded.

He lifted an eyebrow. 'It's a barrier,' he said. 'I'd say that neither of us can leave until it is removed.'

She stared at him for a long moment before her eyes drifted over his clothing. Suddenly, it all made sense and her heart sunk. 'I see,' she murmured. 'And, uh… was it yourself that created the barrier?'

He didn't reply immediately, but when a smirk eventually crossed his features a chill shot down Emme's spine. 'You think me insane,' he guessed quite accurately. 'Very well. What explanation would you give for the golden hue you can see?'

Her mouth went dry. If he was insane, he was also dangerously good at reading her. Wordlessly, she got to her feet. It seemed counterintuitive to turn her back on someone like _him_ , but he merely watched as she made several attempts to pry the door open.

Eventually, she gave in with a sigh and turned around. 'You say this is a barrier?' she asked.

He gave her a maddeningly smug _I-told-you-so_ sort of smile. 'Did you doubt me?' he asked.

'Don't be facetious,' she snapped. 'I've had a horrific day and instead of shoving you out the door I chose to help you despite my better judgement. Do you really think I deserve your smugness?'

To her surprise, the grin disappeared from his face and while he didn't exactly appear contrite, he had the grace to at least consider her words. 'I may have a solution,' he said finally, 'if you will assist me for just a few minutes more.'

Emme was torn between wanting to land a fist to his jaw and outright refuse to help him a second more. However, she couldn't help but acknowledge they were trapped in a room together and she had little else to do.

At her silence, he nodded towards the sink. 'I'm still bleeding,' he told her. 'I would appreciate your help in bandaging it.'

She was a little regretful that her anger had burned through so quickly but Emme found herself nodding anyway. 'No funny business,' she warned him, stepping over to the sink.

He watched her carefully as she pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. 'Why do you wear those?' he asked.

Emme glanced at him, surprised to find that he was sincerely curious. 'Well,' she said, unsure how to phrase the truth. 'I don't really know you….'

Comprehension dawned in his eyes. 'To prevent the possible transmission of disease?' he guessed.

Emme shrugged. 'Better safe than sorry,' she said.

He seemed to hold his tongue then, so Emme ignored him and returned to her place behind him in the bath. She made quick work of cleaning the wound and surrounding skin, which already looked a little less gruesome, and applied antiseptic.

She peeled off the gloves and tore open the packet to an adhesive bandage, glancing at the back of his head curiously. Considering the snark he'd shown her earlier, Emme was almost suspicious that he was so… well-behaved now.

'My name is Loki,' he said quietly as she was smoothing the edges of the bandage down.

Emme froze, but his words had been unmistakably clear. She straightened, her hands dropping to her sides. He stood slowly and turned to face her, his expression curiously blank. After a moment, she realised that he was waiting for her to say something. 'What?' she asked.

The corner of his mouth twitched. 'Is this not when Midgardians would offer their own name in return?' he – _Loki_ – asked.

Speechless, she simply shook her head. It seemed a dangerous proposition to offer this man anything.

He laughed outright – a dark, rich sound that sent a strange chill into her stomach. 'Come then, Syn,' he said, holding out his hand.

'Syn?' she repeated, not moving an inch.

His smile deepened. 'The goddess of refusal,' he said.

Emme was so surprised that she laughed. 'That exists?' she asked.

 _'She_ exists,' Loki corrected.

'Ah, of course,' Emme said flatly.

He wiggled his outstretched hand at her. 'How long do you plan to stand in the bath?' he asked.

Emme didn't move. 'You said you could get the door open?' she reminded him.

His mocking grin settled into something much more wry and dangerous. 'I said I might have a solution,' he corrected. 'I never said that I could open the door.'

Her eyebrows flew up. 'I see,' she nearly hissed. 'I guess the problem in question was the gaping wound in your back, _God of Lies_?'

'You wound me,' he said insincerely. 'If you'd take my hand, I could prove myself to you.'

Emme bit back a sharp retort. She was tired, frustrated and increasingly feeling that her own stupidity might just be her own undoing. She wanted this green-eyed stranger out of her hotel room and the damn door open. 'This is ridiculous,' she said.

His face settled into an expression of quiet understanding and worst of all he said nothing.

She released an uncooperative hiss and slipped her hand into his. Loki's hand closed around hers and a moment later he frowned.

When nothing happened, Emme frowned too. 'Why are we holding hands?' she asked.

He let go of her hand with a speed that startled her, releasing a low sound of frustration and a string of foreign words that Emme suspected wouldn't be overly flattering if translated. His eyes locked onto hers. 'Where is the knife?' he asked.

She waved towards the sink.

Loki was there in two steps, hands pressed against the counter and a look of intense concentration on his face.

Emme watched him, brutally aware that her life choices had led to her standing in a bloodied bath while a psychopathic stranger stared intensely at an inanimate throwing knife. 'What's the verdict, Houdini?' she asked blearily.

He looked up at her, a frown marring his features (though perhaps that was his normal expression?). 'Houdini?' he repeated.

'He was a famous escape artist,' Emme explained with a saccharin grin. _He_ could have gotten them out of this room, she mused (unreasonably?).

Loki let out a snort that was surprisingly elegant and returned his attention to the macabre scene in the sink. 'He was a sorcerer, then?' he asked.

'Well, no,' Emme said with a fierce blink of surprise. 'I think we burned all of the magic folk years before that.'

'Do you really think medieval humans would have been able to identify and capture any magic wielder worth the name?' he asked, holding a hand horizontally over the sink.

Emme stared at him, watching the gold haze shift lazily below his palm. If he _was_ insane, she had to admit that he gave the fantasy an admirable level of credibility. 'We should have done this in the lounge,' she thought aloud. 'At least I could have been by the phone and called reception.'

He hummed. 'And what would you have told them?' he asked.

Good point.

'Besides,' Loki continued as he straightened and dropped his arm to his side, 'if the barrier has dampened my magic I highly doubt your communication method would work.'

'At least we'd know,' Emme pointed out. 'Any luck communicating with the knife?'

He gave her a strange look but didn't answer.

Emme sighed. 'We should put it back in,' she said in a fit of frustration.

Confusion gave way to incredulity in Loki's expression. 'Why would we possibly do that?' he asked.

'The gold haze only happened when we took the knife out,' Emme said with a wave of her hands through the air. 'Maybe it would go away if we put the knife back where it was.'

He didn't answer, a strange look passing over his face. Emme began to shake her head. 'Oh, no,' she said firmly. 'That's insane. I didn't seriously mean that. We're not—'

'Come here,' he demanded.

Emme froze, her heart twisting in her chest. 'No.'

He rolled his eyes. 'If I wanted to harm you, I could do it just as easily while you stood where you are. Come here; I want to try something.'

She considered refusing again but he had raised a good point about the relative safety of the bath. With a huff, Emme carefully stepped out onto the tiles and crept up to his side. 'What now?' she asked.

'Pick it up.'

She'd used both sets of gloves from the first aid kit so Emme tore open another wound dressing and dropped it onto the knife's handle before picking it up. 'Okay,' she said. 'This is suitably gory and useless.'

'Oh?' Loki queried smugly. 'You can see the infinitesimal changes in the magic weaving, can you?'

Emme snorted, much less elegantly than Loki had earlier. 'It's a piece of metal, Loki,' she pointed out. 'I could buy a set of these online but I don't because I like not being on a government watch— _what the hell is happening_?' she demanded.

As they watched, the edges of the metal seemed to shift slightly before the structure changed and the whole thing began to melt towards the sink.

Emme released the remnants of the knife in shock just before Loki's arms wrapped firmly around her, pinning her arms to her chest.

The melted blade turned to mist before it hit the sink and exploded in an angry red maelstrom around them, stopped only by a rush of green light that seemed to explode from their chests.

Just as quickly, the whole thing was over and Emme was left staring in shock while her cheeks still smarted with heat and her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

Strong hands turned her around and Loki's hands were cupping her face as he said something. Emme allowed him to tip her face up, staring at him nonsensically as his green eyes took in her every feature.

The gold was gone.

The red and green, too.

Emme blinked. What the... fuck.

Loki said something and then wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tight. Her head swum and a moment later she was blinking in shock as Loki stepped back and she found herself staring at the walls of the hotel bedroom.

'Lay down,' he urged her and the words made enough sense that Emme let him gently steer her towards the bed.

She let him help her in – clothes and all – until she was tucked safely beneath the sheets. The soft comfort of the bed soothed Emme enough that her mind was able to accept what she'd just seen.

'The red,' she murmured, watching the way Loki froze. 'It would have killed me, right?' she asked.

Emme didn't know how she knew that; just that she did. It had all happened so fast but then it only took a moment to die.

'The magic was… surprisingly unstable,' Loki replied carefully. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, brows furrowed.

It scared him too, Emme realised suddenly. He hadn't expected to put Emme in danger but the idea that he felt guilt over it made the tightness in Emme's chest ease just a little. She took a steadying breath. 'And the green?' she asked.

His eyebrows lifted slightly. 'My barrier,' he said.

A raspy laugh left Emme's throat. 'Good timing for your magic to come back,' she observed.

'I thought you believed me to be merely insane,' Loki reminded her.

She considered a few responses to that, most of them facetious, before deciding to go with the truth. 'It's been four years since New York was nearly flattened,' Emme said. 'That's just enough time for humans to start to relax about the whole thing and stop expecting further attacks, but not long enough for the crackpots and lunatics to stop dressing up in leather and pretending to be Loki, of Megalomaniac Purpose.'

Emme paused, considering the way his eyes had shuttered and his jaw tensed. 'I never saw much of the footage from New York,' she said quietly. 'But I'd wager not many people can make green explosions and zip us from one room to the other like that.'

His expression smoothed out then, but Loki said nothing. He was calm, almost _too_ calm.

'The truth is,' Emme continued, 'you caused about as much destruction as any of our politicians and _they_ still retain their position more often than not. Maybe this makes me stupid and selfish, considering _you_ put me into danger tonight, but I'm just glad that your first instinct was to stop the red mist from killing me, rather than zipping off to wherever.'

A frown had formed between his brows and Loki shifted forward where he sat upon the edge of the bed. 'I am not kind,' he said.

Emme waved her hand at him. 'You are whatever you tell yourself you are. If you think you're cruel, then you will be cruel. If you think you are kind and honest and loyal, than that is what you will be.'

He arched an eyebrow at her. 'And what are you, mortal?'

'Tired,' she admitted around a yawn. Now that the shock had begun to fade and her mind had reconciled most of the impossible things she'd seen, Emme's eyelids were nearly impossible to keep open. 'It's been too big of a day to be debating moral philosophies after near death experiences,' she whispered.

'Then sleep,' Loki said so quietly it might have been her imagination. 'And dream well, Emmeline Buchanan.'

And she did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being an avid reader, Emme really couldn't find it in herself to be surprised when they came for her.

Being an avid reader, Emme really couldn't find it in herself to be surprised when _they_ came for her. It happened on a remarkably uneventful Wednesday and the only thing that might have raised her suspicions in hindsight, was the unusual speed at which her lunchtime coffee had been prepared.

Emme stood just outside the coffee shop to take her first sip of the elixir of life, her dark hair pinned back in polished perfection and wearing her favourite little black dress (knee length for modesty and surprisingly comfortable for a corporate frock).

Then, her phone chirped.

Emme glanced briefly at her watch, aware that she had nearly the full hour of her lunch break remaining, and slipped her phone from her handbag. Her boss' name lit up the screen and she opened the text curiously. Suzanne was a fierce woman, who expected her employees to work hard, but to also make full use of their non-working hours. As a non-coffee drinker, Emme couldn't think of a single reason for the text.

It read: Building in lock down. Stay away until I call.

Well, fuck.

Emme stood stock still, abruptly wishing she knew if she believed in coincidence or not. Sure, she could have easily believed one crackpot had spent an hour too many in a cubicle and decided to go on a rampage, but a month had barely passed since her bizarre encounter with the self-proclaimed Norse god and – no, Emme decided swiftly that she just didn't believe in something so coincidental.

Her hands trembled just a little as she returned a short text of acknowledgement before returning her phone to her bag. A moment later Emme retrieved the device, put it to silent, and put it away again. Yeah, she watched films, too.

It was a short walk back to her office building – barely a block – and Emme was almost shocked that she'd formulated a plan by the time she got there. Go her. Keeping her head down, Emme passed by her own building and headed for the neighbouring one.

She slipped inside the lift and pressed the button for the twelfth floor; a mirror to her own. Abruptly, she was grateful that women could be as perverted as men and her co-workers were particularly fond of the solicitor they watched through the window.

The lift rose smoothly – no dilapidated building for a legal office, thank you very much – and Emme stepped out to find the reception empty but for a very polished middle-aged woman standing by the windows.

A sightly guilty looked crossed the blonde woman's face, which Emme waved aside. 'Please, it's fine,' she insisted, crossing the foyer to stand at her side. 'Can you see anything?' she asked.

'Nothing for a while,' the woman said in a rush, her excitement slipping through. 'Do you know anything?'

Emme hummed, searching quickly but finding little activity visible from where they stood. 'I just got told the building's in lock down,' she said. 'I'd hoped to see what was going on.'

They watched together, Emme considering the chances that it might have nothing to do with her, after all. She couldn't see any signs of violence or destruction and the eerie danger seemed so at odds with the blade she'd pulled from Loki's back.

'They seem pretty determined,' the lady murmured.

Emme glanced sideways at her, her heart twisting strangely in her chest. 'Why do you say that?' she asked.

The woman shrugged. 'They've been in there nearly twenty minutes so far and they don't seem to care at all that an alarm has been raised.'

Emme considered that point carefully. She was fortunate to work for a government department so they never had to worry about keeping large amounts of cash or valuable items on the premises, which reduced the threat of violent crime to a percentage not worth knowing. Security was a concern, yes, but "security" in their world meant having good computer passwords and not leaving paper reports in easily accessible places.

She shifted from one foot to another, wincing at the bead of sweat that rolled down her lower back. Nice.

'Did you see what they looked like?' Emme asked at length.

'Oh, yes,' the woman replied, her china blue eyes wide. 'Very tall men, and strangely dressed too. Almost looked like they were wearing robes, if you can imagine.'

Emme could. She felt the strangest urge to throw up and it took five very deep breaths until she could no longer taste bile. 'I'd better go,' she said, turning on her heel.

The woman jerked around, her expression horrified. 'You can't go in _there_ ,' she insisted.

'Oh, I certainly won't,' Emme assured her and pressed repeatedly at the button for the lift. 'Thanks for the use of your foyer,' she added.

'I… of course,' the woman mumbled, looking between Emme and the windows.

The lift dinged and Emme waved before slipping through the open doors. It was only as the doors closed and she plummeted towards the ground that Emme placed her cold coffee on the floor by her feet and braced her palms against her legs, trying to not heave.

Coincidence, indeed.

At ground level, Emme took a deep breath and forced herself to leave the relative safety of the lift and then the building itself. Thankfully, the streets outside were fairly empty thanks to the beginnings of police activity and Emme was able to slip away with little obstruction.

A quick check of her mobile showed no new messages and Emme turned down the closest alleyway she could find. A delivery crew eyed her strangely as she jogged down the short lane and turned down the next.

Her pulse was in her ears and Emme could feel her thoughts beginning to crowd her. She tried her best to not consider what might happen to her co-workers, let alone herself should all of this end badly.

'Thank god,' she breathed as she found a little back street with plenty of space and no one in it. For the sake of public appearances, Emme glanced around once more to triple check that she was alone before centring herself in the middle of the street.

Oh, yes, _of course_ she'd spent some time on the internet after her previous encounter with alien life and it had certainly revealed some bizarre theories. If she'd had a little more pride and a lot less panic, Emme might have ignored all of those suggestions, instead deciding to leave things in the professional hands of the police force.

Unfortunately, she'd seen things and read things and her pride and strong cynical streak weren't quite enough to stop her from trying.

So, Emme took a deep breath and fervently hoped that no one she knew was watching as she stared up at the beautiful blue sky. 'Umm… Heimdall?' she nearly whispered, 'I know this might sound a little crazy but I'm fairly certain we're having a little alien problem here on Earth and I think Loki should know about it.'

Silence greeted her words – of course it did – and Emme felt the sickening churn of her stomach that people feel when they realise they are completely and irrefutably alone. 'Ok, fine,' she announced to the sky. 'That's the last time I help strange gods!'

'Ma'am?'

Emme gasped, spinning on her heel to find a uniformed police officer staring at her warily. 'Oh,' she said, brilliantly, 'I didn't see you there.'

Thankfully, he didn't appear to have the time to deal with random acts of insanity so the officer just gestured towards the far side of the lane. 'We're clearing people out of this area,' he told her, 'do you have a mode of transport home?'

Emme felt cold. 'What about the people in that building?' she asked.

He frowned at her. 'Emergency services are working on the situation,' he informed her. 'I need you to leave the area.'

They were both overwhelmed and he looked a few seconds away from arresting her so Emme forced herself to nod and gesture over her shoulder. 'I'll catch a train home,' she assured him and didn't wait for his response before turning and walking away.

………….

They were waiting for her when she arrived at her apartment nearly an hour later.

Things might have gone much worse, had they not stationed a look-out outside her apartment door. Emme looked up as the lift opened and she instantly locked eyes with the unnaturally pale, dark-robed figure with his back to her door.

He shouted, a guttural kind of noise, as Emme turned on her heel and smashed her palm against the buttons to close the doors. They did, slowly, and a strangled noise escaped her lips as the creature banged his fists against the metal in rage.

The lift ground its way back towards the floor and Emme shoved her fingers through her hair. 'God damn it,' she nearly shouted, uncaring of the security footage. 'Loki… Heimdall… whoever the fuck is listening,' she yelled towards the ceiling, 'this is your problem and you're running a little late to fix it!'

The lift arrived at ground floor and as Emme stepped out into the foyer, her stomach hollowed out to hear the noise coming from the stairwell. Of course they wouldn't wait for the lift again, would they?

She swore loudly and ran for the doors, kicking off her high heels as she went. She burst through the doors, her palms stinging from the force at which she shoved them open and she barely made it down the three steps without falling on her face.

Emme hesitated on the footpath – go towards other people, or away from them? – then the doors slammed open behind her and she took off running. Fuck it, she was a selfish creature and wanted to live.

She needn't have worried. It was early afternoon on a weekday and by the time they caught up with her, there was not a single bystander in sight.

Emme cried out as she rounded a corner and found a ghostly-white face waiting for her. He seized her arms and forcefully flung her against the wall. Emme's head cracked against the brick behind her and for a horrible moment the only thing keeping her on her feet were the hands bruising an imprint into her upper arms.

He spoke to her but between Emme's gasping breaths and disorientation, all she understood in that moment was that there were four of them and just one of her. Screw Loki, she thought furiously, and all of Asgard for that matter.

The creature holding her was waiting, Emme realised abruptly and she blinked at him in surprise. 'What?' she asked.

He frowned, derision evident in the faint curling of his lip. 'Where is it?' he asked.

Emme stared at him. Of all the things… 'I don't know what you're asking me,' she said.

'It would seem that you are as deceitful as the trickster,' he sneered. 'I really should not have expected anything else.'

The trickster. Emme at least knew what that meant and it wasn't anything good, in her current situation. 'You mean Loki,' she guessed, wincing as a nearly simultaneous snarl erupted from her captors. 'Well, he's not exactly my favourite person right now, either,' she said.

'What lies you tell,' a darkly mocking voice slid from the shadows.

Emme started in surprise, meeting Loki's amused gaze as he appeared over the shoulders of the cloaked men, completely unperturbed by the daggers they each drew. 'Loki,' she breathed, still a little disbelieving that he had come. He merely raised his eyebrow at her, a smug little grin on his face.

The cloaked figure before her released one of Emme's arms to draw his own blade. Then, instead of starting for Loki as Emme might have guessed, he turned and raised the dagger towards her. She read his intention too late and her single free hand would not have been strong enough to prevent him from drawing the blade across her throat, even if she'd reacted soon enough.

Emme felt her entire body go ice cold and shrieked a moment later as the ground disappeared beneath her feet.

She landed heavily, sharp pain blooming in her ankle and she collapsed to the ground, her would-be killer by her side. Disorientated and terrified, Emme scurried backwards until she registered the ice-cold water she now sat in and the grit of the sand between her fingers.

What on earth…?

The creature who'd moved to kill her turned away and rose to his feet with a snarl, apparently deciding she wasn't worth his time.

Emme stayed where she was, staring at the tableau before her. Loki – dressed in the green and gold leather that she'd gotten to know so well – fought with his own set of daggers in a flashing, darting display that put her in mind of a cobra.

One of the creatures already lay motionless on the sand and when an agile flash of Loki's wrist sent a second to join him, Emme finally took a shuddering breath. She watched the fourth and final cloaked figure join the fight almost seamlessly and realised that she didn't care if they all died, so long as she and Loki lived.

Humanity, look how far you've fallen, indeed.

He would win, Emme realised as she watched. She was no master tactician herself, but even Emme could see the difference between Loki's serene expression and fluid movements compared to his opponents' snarls and thoughtless attacks.

She looked away.

They'd arrived at a dreary little beach in the middle of god only knew where and it was completely abandoned. If nothing else, Emme found she could be grateful that as few bystanders were involved as this. The heavy sound of a body meeting sand met Emme's ears and she glanced over just long enough to make sure Loki remained on his feet before looking away again.

Her stomach churned. She wanted to be okay with being the one who lived. After all, they'd come after _her_ and been perfectly okay with ending her life. It wasn't her fault that Loki was a better fighter than they were – in fact, if she wanted to lay blame at anyone's feet, she had an inkling that the responsibility for this event might just belong to Loki.

A pair of feet appeared in her line of sight and Emme was still gathering the strength to look up when Loki crouched before her. Emme met his gaze, achingly aware of the silence around them.

Loki said nothing at first, his green eyes tracking the tears that had crept unnoticed down her cheeks. His earlier humour was thankfully gone and to her dull surprise, he didn't mock her grief. 'I'd forgotten what it's like,' he said quietly, touching a single fingertip to the damp on her right cheek.

'What?' Emme croaked.

Loki let his hand fall away, meeting her gaze with a staggering lack of judgement. 'I've taken my place in many battles,' he told her, 'and I've seen many people die.' He paused, the weight of several hundred years within his green eyes. 'But you never forget the first,' he said.

Emme released her pent up breath in a laugh that was very nearly a sob. 'Great,' she murmured.

He waited for Emme to collect herself. She did so, taking several steadying breaths until the tears no longer fell and she could contemplate moving without her stomach roiling in protest. Eventually, _finally_ , she brushed her hands over her face and was ready.

Emme steadied herself and curled her legs to one side in preparation to stand. The pain that speared through her ankle took her breath away. _'Oh_ ,' she gasped.

Loki's hands steadied her by her shoulders. 'Are you injured?' he asked.

'Apparently,' Emme winced, twisting her body to peer at her ankle. It was a little fatter than her other ankle, and a faint purple was beginning to blossom underneath the skin. 'That can't be good,' she said.

Loki hummed and pressed his fingers to the injury. Emme gasped at the pain and pushed his hand away. _'Jesus_ , you broke my ankle,' she accused.

'I transported six living things halfway across Midgard,' he replied acerbically. 'All things considered, I think it went surprisingly well.'

Emme could formulate no other response than to raise her middle finger.

………………

They flashed into Emme's blissfully empty apartment and she found herself silently glad that she'd accepted Loki's offer to carry her when her head swum violently with the relocation. 'Ugh,' was all she said.

He laughed quietly, walking them through the apartment. When Loki turned into her bedroom, Emme forced her eyes open. 'I need to shower first,' she pointed out reluctantly, though she had considered cleaning the sand and seawater from her bed later if it meant forgoing the pain of trying to shower with a potentially broken ankle now.

'Your injury would make that difficult,' Loki pointed out.

'Unless you're going to help me,' Emme threatened, 'I don't want to hear how much it's going to hurt.'

'My, my,' he mused, 'I had no idea I was invited to shower with you. This certainly changes things.'

Emme's mouth fell open and she found herself spluttering for a response while her face heated. 'I… that's not…'

'Worry not,' Loki assured her, though the laughter remained in his eyes. 'There, is that not better?'

She froze at the sudden warmth of clean, dry clothes encasing her body. Startled, Emme looked down to find herself wearing a pair of loose pants and a shirt that resembled Loki's tunic in a soft winter blue. More than that, the grit of sand was gone.

Emme let out a relieved laugh, squeezing her eyes shut. 'Oh my god,' she breathed. 'I should feel massively violated right now, but I'm just so happy I don't have to shower with my sore ankle.'

He placed her carefully down on the bed and Emme groaned at the discomfort of her ankle settling onto the new surface, her eyes slipping shut. She could hear Loki padding around the end of the bed and ignored it until she felt him settle on the other side of her, the light touch of his fingers upon her ankle.

She peeled open her eyes to find Loki frowning at the growing bruises upon her skin. 'I don't know that even you can glare an injury into fixing itself,' she murmured. He turned his head to meet Emme's gaze, a grin of smug self-assurance crossing his face and she nearly bit her tongue when she felt the heat begin beneath his fingertips. 'You've got to be kidding me,' Emme said.

'You were saying?' Loki challenged.

Emme pulled a pillow from the far side of the bed and used it to cover her face, though she shook her head in disbelief.

Moments later, she shifted the pillow beneath her shoulders and peered over at Loki as he worked. 'Does all of this mean that calling to Heimdall worked?' she asked.

He looked up at her and his expression was calm so Emme supposed it must have been an okay question to ask. 'It does,' Loki confirmed. 'I confess that I was surprised you knew to call for him.'

Emme laughed. 'That's because you don't have the internet on Asgard, as far as I know.'

'We don't,' Loki replied. He hesitated, and then met her gaze. 'Our gatekeeper is very important to Asgard. He can see and hear as far as creation. Without his sight, Asgard loses the ability to warn us of the schemes of our enemies.'

Emme pursed her lips, trying to work out what Loki was _not_ saying. A moment later, it clicked. 'Oh, she breathed, 'I get it. Heim… he shouldn't be distracted for no good reason.'

Loki's fingers tightened over her shin where they rested in a quiet show of gratitude. 'Thank you,' he said simply.

She smiled. 'But you have to admit that today was definitely a Good Reason,' she said.

For a moment Emme thought nothing of Loki's silence, letting herself peer up at the ceiling and contemplate whether she would have to come up with a good excuse upon returning to work tomorrow.

Then, Loki called her name. Emme looked down at him again, surprised by the seriousness with which he met her eyes. 'I cannot guarantee that no others will come looking for you,' Loki told her, his eyes noting the way her skin paled. 'However, there are two spells I would like to cast upon you, with your permission.'

Emme took a shaky breath, still trying to process the first part of his statement. Now that he'd said it, it seemed so obvious. Naturally, they knew about her now – at least in some regard. It seemed they'd known for the better part of a month. Even worse, she highly doubted her ability to deal with them by herself, given her performance today.

He waited patiently, letting her reach what had been an obvious conclusion for himself.

'They were the ones who injured you, right?' Emme asked.

'Yes.'

'So how did they find me?' Emme asked.

A small frown marred Loki's brow and for a moment she was reminded of her well-read sister trying to find synonyms for very particular words. 'It's… difficult to explain to you without explaining magic use,' Loki admitted eventually.

Emme smiled faintly, though she refused to budge. 'Try,' she urged.

He gave her a flat, unimpressed look, though it lacked any real irritation. 'It's… well, I suppose that it's similar to a scent,' Loki said. 'They just had to find the start of it.'

'But how did they get my… scent,' Emme asked, realising that this conversation was going to be a lot weirder than she'd anticipated.

'Not yours,' Loki corrected, 'mine.'

'Oh,' Emme said. Then, 'hang on, what? _Your_ scent?'

He arched an eyebrow. 'Yes.'

'And it led to me?' Emme clarified.

'It was _on_ you,' Loki corrected. 'People are much better at holding magic signatures than inanimate objects. Any trail that might be left by magic is not likely to last very long, especially across such as a distance as… you've not listened since the first part, have you?' Loki asked upon a sigh.

'Correct,' Emme said and for the life of her, she could not work out if she was more fascinated by the things Loki had just disclosed or more horrified to find that she was a walking beacon to his enemies. 'It's just… a lot to take in,' she said aloud. 'And I still don't know _who_ they were.'

'Does it matter?' Loki asked.

Emme felt her eyebrows fly towards her hairline. 'It matters a lot,' she assured him. 'Not only did they try to kill me, but I saw four of them die today. And,' she added as an afterthought, 'there's the possibility I'll see more of them. So it matters a great deal to me.'

Loki refused to meet her eyes for long enough that Emme began to believe he wouldn't answer. She couldn't find it in herself to feel sorry for telling the truth, so she gave him the space to either deal with her argument, or not.

In the end he sighed and looked up at her. 'They are a new enemy of Asgard,' he said at last. 'One that we are only just learning about ourselves.'

Emme frowned, confused by the reluctance in his voice. 'You fought them easily enough and there was only one of you,' she pointed out. 'Why do you sound so worried about it?'

He was silent again and this time she understood. 'You… don't have to tell me,' she said, smiling a little when he looked up at her sharply. 'I know, sudden change of heart and all that. But I didn't realise that it was a sensitive matter about Asgard's safety. I… believe it or not but humans keep silent about the same things too – we call it national security.'

A strange look passed over Loki's face, though it was gone quickly and he soon redirected his attention back to her ankle. 'Try to move your foot,' he urged, removing his hands.

Emme grimaced but did so, her face lightening abruptly. 'Oh wow,' she breathed, 'it's still kind of tender but I think it'll be fine pretty soon.' She paused, twisting a little to see that the purplish bruising had halted in its tracks. 'That's amazing,' she insisted. 'I had no idea you could do that.'

She looked up and stopped still, captivated by the almost bashful look upon Loki's face. Emme was bad at accepting compliments but it seemed Loki was even worse. He cleared his throat and with a small twist of his wrist, plucked a strip of cloth from thin air.

Emme stared.

'We will definitely need to discuss a masking spell,' he told her, proceeding to wrap the cloth around her ankle with a great deal of dexterity. 'My healing has not helped erase the traces of my magic upon you,' he added.

She watched him, aware that he told the perfect truth. 'What's a masking spell?' she asked finally.

Loki didn't answer immediately, instead smoothing down the end of the bandage. As Emme watched, the threads rearranged themselves just a little beneath his hand and held fast when he released it. Huh.

'It will hide the magic upon you until it naturally fades with time,' Loki said.

Her lips quirked into a wry smile. 'A spell to hide a spell?' she teased and then waved aside Loki's indignation. 'It's fine, I trust that you could do it,' she assured him.

'"Could" is very different to "should",' Loki noted.

Very different, Emme agreed to herself, though aloud she merely laughed. 'I don't know that I was thinking of what I _should_ be doing the day we met,' she pointed out.

'You're far too trusting,' Loki told her.

'And yet you have nothing to gain from it,' Emme pointed out. 'You mentioned two spells, earlier,' she said.

Loki nodded. 'The second I would like to place would let me know if you are in danger,' he told her. 'It would be useful, should the first fail in its purpose.'

Emme mulled over her options carefully and Loki gave her the time to do so. She could find no fault with his suggestion and that in itself made her just a little wary, given the results of her internet search. 'Why do you want to do this?' she asked eventually.

He smiled and Emme thought he was almost pleased by the question. 'I have an obligation to see to your safety,' Loki told her. 'It was due to my presence, and your agreement to help me when I required it, that enemies of Asgard came looking for you. Which, as you so succinctly informed our guardian, they are indeed Asgard's problem.'

Emme flushed. 'Oh,' she muttered, 'so he heard that.'

'Besides,' Loki continued, 'these two spells are child's play for anyone with the faintest trace of magic and I would much prefer to discharge my duty immediately, than to continue returning to Midgard to see to your safety.'

Emme rolled her head back to look up at the ceiling with a sigh. 'You could have left it at "because it's my obligation",' she said.

Loki hummed noncommittedly. 'Do I have your consent, then?' he asked.

Emme laughed despite her earlier pique and waved aside Loki's questioning frown because _like hell_ was she explaining why she found that funny. 'Um, sure,' she said, sitting up and trying to be a mature adult. 'You can do the magic we just discussed,' she added because she knew his reputation had to come from somewhere.

His answering grin was wicked and despite the little thrill it gave her (which she would _never_ admit to), Emme was a little relieved she'd thought to be so precise in her wording. 'You're learning,' he praised.

'With suitable encouragement,' she said. 'So, how does this work?'

Loki held out a hand and when she made to place her right hand in his, shook his head. 'No, the other hand,' he said. Emme did as asked, watching curiously as he turned their joined hands so that the pale skin of her wrist stared back at them. He hesitated, meeting her eyes. 'This will be uncomfortable,' he warned her, 'though you have nothing to fear from it.'

_Oh_. 'Thanks for the warning,' she said sincerely.

Loki returned to his task and as he lifted his free hand, Emme was so distracted by the green haze that seemed to cling to his fingers that she nearly forgot his warning. Still, as his thumb pressed to the skin of her wrist and a sharp pain pierced through her flesh, a strangled gasp tore its way from her throat.

It was over in a moment and Loki merely brushed his thumb against the skin once before removing his hand, leaving a dark shape behind.

Emme froze, her eyes instantly focusing on the collection of fine black lines left behind that were in the shape of… a dragon? – no, she realised with a strange blip in her stomach – it was in the shape of two intertwined snakes. Which, she knew just enough about Norse mythology to understand the significance of _that_ one.

'I hate to say it,' Emme said, holding up her wrist, 'but if we're trying to hide my connection to you, I don't know that putting your marker on me is the best of ideas.'

Surprisingly, Loki merely looked amused. 'I highly doubt our chances of discovery thanks to a magical creature being present to see this particular symbol on a particular part of your body in this particular realm.'

He had a point and Emme felt her shoulders relax slightly, though her vague sense of discomfort remained. It was culture shock, she told herself. Apparently, Asgardians were just dandy with leaving their calling card upon another person and it not meaning a thing.

'So, the other spell?' she prompted. 'Does it hurt too?'

Loki shook his head. 'I cast the spell while you were investigating the previous,' he said with a nod towards her wrist. 'Incidentally, I placed it there as I believe it will be concealed by whatever it is you wear upon your wrist each day.'

Emme turned her wrist over automatically, having not realised that her watch had left such a noticeable line upon the other side of her forearm but there it was. She turned her arm again, tracing a finger over the delicate black lines. 'So, is this…?'

'It will fade,' Loki assured her. 'It will last just as long as the trace of my magic upon you and then both spells will release.'

'Ah,' Emme murmured before looking up. 'Well, I guess this is goodbye,' she observed.

Loki inclined his head. 'It is. Take care, Emmeline of Midgard,' he said and abruptly vanished from her view.

She sat that way for a long time, thinking of all that had happened. It was so unexpected, so _odd_ , that she might have questioned her own sanity, if not for the small black figure upon her wrist and the residual discomfort in her ankle. With a groan, Emme let herself fall backwards onto her pillows as a single, horrible truth occurred to her.

She'd forgotten to ask Loki just what it was those creatures believed him to have taken and now she'd never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> Again, I'm writing this for my own amusement so please just enjoy it as is for now :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I wrote this piece for my own amusement (and partly because I'm going brain dead job hunting). 
> 
> It's a standalone for now, but may add to it if the mood strikes me. 
> 
> P.S. I'm an Australian writer so you may note the quotation marks are different. (i.e. '...' not "..."). I agree it's not as visually clear, but using the incorrect punctuation for my region would be a very bad habit to develop. Thanks for your understanding :)


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